


FuckSim

by DSandman



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Anal Sex, Bodily Fluids, Dubious Consent, F/M, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Semi-Public Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DSandman/pseuds/DSandman
Summary: Reader finds that sometimes friendships can come with benefits.  A collection of erotic encounters between our dear Reader and his alien compatriots.





	FuckSim

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ho, readers!  
> This is my first real writing thing that I've posted so it's probably pretty ass. (no wordplay intended!)  
> That being said, it'd be real swell if you could provide me some criticism, like if you find something specific about the writing you don't like or find irritating, don't feel bad about letting me know!
> 
> I'd ESPECIALLY like your criticism if you find you couldn't get through it. If that's the case, sorry for wasting your time, but It'd really help if you told me why. I'll try not to cry too much! :P

With your hands in the pockets of Mallek’s indefinitely leased hoodie, you round the last corner that Goregle Maps laid out for you on the route to the address Kuprum provided you with. You were initially hesitant to go to a location that you’ve never been to, which was likely on the wrong side of the proverbial tracks (does alternia even have trains which have tracks to be on the incorrect side of?), but Kuprum “convinced” you to go, by calling you a number of offensive words and insinuating you wouldn’t come because you were a frail and scared alien.

Which was, in fact, entirely true.

However, regardless of the truthfulness of the gold-blooded urchin’s jabs, you weren’t about to be dismissed in such a tone.  If you don’t hang out with your friends, they might think you some soggy blanket and not invite you out anywhere anymore, which is the exact opposite of what you want.  Sometimes you’ve gotta make questionable decisions to impress your peers.

At this moment, however, you’re starting to doubt that that’s the best course of action.

This street was, in fact, on the most perverse portion of the path (too much alliteration?).  The pavement cracked so much it appeared more like a cobbled street and probably 50 to 60% of the roadway curb lights were smashed.  The rest probably hadn’t been functional for sweeps. All of the buildings are in easily worse shape than the roads. You aren’t sure if Alternia has subsidized housing projects, but these all certainly have the familiar symptoms of a project.  Missing bricks, roughly cemented over cracks, where the reparatory cement is also cracking, revealing layers of more cement, which were likely also assigned the nigh-impossible task of holding this architectural catastrophe together, like some maintenance worker’s sisyphean punishment.

Luckily, you suppose, in some twisted definition of luckily, much of the damaged masonry is hidden by a mix of graffiti and blood stains, although, considering what you learned from Amisia, you wouldn’t be surprised if they are, in fact, one and the same.  The only reason you can tell that any of it is rainbow troll blood and not paint are the bullet holes  and laser scoring. Also, a severed arm lies decaying on the sidewalk. Yeah. Not the best part of town.

You prepare to make like an insect and flee (flea, get it?), but stop yourself.  You already made it this far and you weren’t brutally killed yet (which is probably the perfect subtitle for your time on Alternia as a whole), so you might as well go through with it.  Anyway, once you find Folykl and Kuprum, you’ll be fine. Probably. They don’t seem the type to leave a friend bleeding out on a sidewalk from multiple gunshot and/or stab wounds. Most likely.  Ok, maybe you don’t really trust them to keep you safe. Fuck it. It’s too late now.

You double check the address; 72 Hemiptera Place; and mentally count up the house numbers.

67, 68, 69-

You whisper, “nice” and dab surreptitiously.

70, 71, and 72.

The building looks about what you imagined. A nondescript steel door inlaid into a crooked brick facade.  A flickering neon sign hangs above the entrance reading “The Hemocoel”. It seems like the exact place that a protagonist in a gritty crime drama meets up with a shady contact, then gets into a knife fight.  You always try to not be in knife fights, if you can help it. If you knew you were going to likely be in a knife fight, you might have come more prepared, like bringing a knife would probably have been a good start.

You swallow hard and, with hands still in pockets, trying to look as cool and collected as possible, you wander across the street.  Wander is probably a good word to describe what you did, cause you almost wander right into an oncoming convertible scuttlebuggy, which slides into park right in front of your destination.

You watch as a troll of indefinite caste, dressed to the twelves, steps out of the vehicle and up to the door.  He wraps a jeweled hand on the steel door 3 times, then pauses before knocking twice more. A short moment later, the door swings open.  Even being as far away as you are, a wave of concentrated bass hits you, like, well, like the scuttle buggy that almost hit you a few moments ago. The figure saunters in and the music cuts off again as the heavy door shuts behind them.

Now that you have a slightly better idea of what you’re walking into, you take a few more deep breaths, straighten your back, and attempt to casually walk up to the door, mirroring the last entrant.  You’ve failed to look casual, however, and instead simply look like you’ve hurt your back rather badly and are now attempting to move it as little as possible.

You knock on the door in the same way the previous attendee did.  3 knocks, then 2 more. 

A small window slides open on the door in exactly the way you wouldn’t expect, because that would be too cliche to actually happen. A pair of yellowed eyes stare through, looking you up and down several times, apparently trying to guess what on Alternia you are. They eventually give up.

BOUNCER: Name?

Name? Is there a whitelist for this place? Is it that exclusive? Hopefully Folykl or Kuprum put you on it.

BOUNCER: Blacklist actually. Trouble makers don’t get the chance to make trouble a second time.

BOUNCER: Mostly because they get killed, but sometimes they escape and decide to come crawling back.

BOUNCER: Now who exactly are you supposed to be?

You hesitate, thinking about whether or not it would be worth it to give this fellow a run through of your biography, but decide it’d be best to give your name and the old dismissive staple of, “I’m not from ‘round here”

Although, still obviously confused by you, the bouncer grunts, accepting that you’re not going to explain further. The window slides closed and the door swings open for you, like the previous visitor, and you’re again hit with a solid wall of sound.

Being this close, the thumping bass seems to reverberate within your very bones and you feel you have to clench your teeth, or they might shake themselves out. Behind the door, the bouncer, a large bronze-blood, sits back on a rickety plastic seat in an alcove next to the entrance hallway. He nods as you acknowledge him, then puts two ear plugs back in.

You’re left staring down the hallway toward what appears from a distance to be an epileptic episode.  Innumerable bodies writhe against one another, mostly wearing colours of the lower castes (and some wearing hardly anything), all dimly lit by strobes of every colour imaginable, and some probably off the human visible spectrum. You build up the necessary courage and make to dive into the sea of gyrating flesh.

With not-insignificant effort and several horns to the face, you elbow your way onto the dance floor.  You stand on your tiptoes to see over the bobbing heads and horns to try to get some idea of the layout of the hall, let alone find your two pals:

The main area is a large open amphitheater, which is currently filled to far beyond fire-safe capacity.  There isn’t a single space not populated by a body. It seems like the dance floor has organized itself by caste with ceruleans being closest to the front of the room.  In front of them is the DJ booth, although, whoever’s crankin tunes is obscured by lighting rigs and enormous speakers.

Above the undulating crowd, there’re some second story balconies.  Most of them have curtains obscuring the occupants, but the few that are open, hold groups of highbloods (you can even see a sea-dweller or two) engaging in risque dances above the common folk.

As you survey your proverbial haystack, you begin to wonder how on Earth- err, Alternia Kuprum and Folykl intended on meeting up with you.  You check your phone. No messages. You send one out, being careful not to lose your phone in the ruckus. Nothing. You sigh and push over toward the wall and lean up against it.

Your ears are starting to hurt quite a bit from the musical onslaught.  You wonder if Trolls can get tinnitus, cause you’re well on your way at this point.  You fumble around in the pockets of Mallek’s hoodie for something to stem the flow of soundwaves into your fragile eardrums.  Lint. Some receipts. Some unscented chapstick Tyzias had loaned you. You settle on some unused tissues and wad them up into cylinders. You hastily shove them into your ears and relax as the sound of your own thoughts becomes audible again.

The reprieve doesn’t last for as long as you’d like, though, as the tissue is unceremoniously plucked from your ear, and a familiar, raspy grumble enters in its place.

FOLYKL: Hey   “pal”

FOLYKL: We thought    you’d be a no show   for sure 

Folykl almost scares you out of your skin.  She’s perched on a large speaker like an alley cat on a garbage can and holds your makeshift earplug in one hand, a fair bit out of your reach.  You make a couple half-hearted grabs at it, before giving up and greeting your friend.

She tosses your ear protection aside into the pit of wriggling dancers.

FOLYKL: Why    bother coming  if you’re just going    to hide away from the tunes   ? 

You explain to the hollow-eyed gold-blood that, first of all, Kuprum didn’t tell you this would be a music venue when he cryptically invited  you to come hang, and second of all, believe you me, the music was still perfectly audible through the shards of tissue paper.

Speaking of Kuprum, you inquire as to his whereabouts.  Don’t you, like, have a dependency thing?

Folykl inhales deeply and the power light on the speaker she’s sitting on fluctuates a bit, then she points a bony finger towards the DJ booth.

Sure enough, Kuprum’s, quite literally, plugged into the sound system.  Yellow and purple sparks discharge from his glowing eyes and he’s gritting his teeth through a maniacal smile.  As the music pumps and swells, you can see the psionic flinch and jolt along with it, like a biological visualizer.  He’s clearly in a fair bit of pain, but both he and the crowd seem to be enjoying his rapturous anguish.

You watch with interest and more than a small amount of concern as Kuprum continues his masochistic act.  As the music reaches its peak, you can almost see what looks like a little smoke start to emanate from Kuprum’s clothes as he arches his back in pain-filled ecstasy.

At the songs conclusion, Kuprum hunches over the soundboards, holding himself up with his quivering arms.  The crowd goes wild, and a smirking Cerulean pushes the gold-blood’s limp form off the booth, starting up the music again.

You rush (or at least move as quickly as  you can through the sludge of attendees) towards the soundstage. Your sympathetic motion is made all the more difficult now that Folykl has latched onto your shoulders like a very large, grimy koala.  She sniggers dryly at your heroism.

By the time you’ve plowed your way to the front of the club, Kuprum’s righted himself (mostly) and is now leaning up against some scaffolding, panting heavily.

You reach an arm out to hold him up and he falls into your nurturing embrace.  He wears a drunken smile across his face and you’re upset to see that his eyes have lost some of their colour. You express your worry for his safety.

KUPRUM: >ha you idiot! 

KUPRUM: >psionics as powerful as me can put out power for much... 

KUPRUM: >for much longe… 

He collapses further into your arms as he continues to giggle like a child who received a little too much nitrous at the dentist. Folykl finishes his thought.

FOLYKL: he’ll    be fine 

FOLYKL: give him a few    minutes to recover his   strength 

FOLYKL: and he’ll    be back to normal   again 

FOLYKL: like when    you lose blood 

She swipes a finger across your cheek, and draws a little streak of blood. Rude.

FOLYKL: as long as    you don’t lose all of it    at once 

FOLYKL: it’ll    come back 

Her nonchalant tone doesn’t betray much, but you can see she shares your concern for her close friend, as she takes a disquieted look into Kuprum’s darkened eyes. Whether or not that concern comes from her reliance on his internal batteries to keep her alive or genuine care for his well-being is hard to tell, and it’s not really a question you want to ask.

You lay Kuprum’s limp body on the ground a bit of a distance away from the soundstage and wait with him while he slowly comes back to his senses.  Wiping a little blood from your cheek, you glance back it his limp form, and feel a little relieved as he seems to be breathing more steadily.

~~~

While your lead-acid friend recovered, you decided to try and open up a little about this place and got out on the dance-floor.  There’s always an opportunity to make new friends, even when you’re out with other friends. There was certainly a lot of “friendliness” out in the multi-coloured sea of trolls.  It was hard to look in any particular direction without seeing two or more gray forms mackin’ on one another. To be honest this isn’t actually much different than how it was on earth.  Not that you spent much time at such establishments back home; or at any establishments actually. The least you can say about your endless Alternian field trip is that you’ve been far more sociable than normal.

As you were reminiscing about your past introversion, one of the aforementioned touch-feely types gyrates over to you in a way that makes extremely clear of their intentions.  The lanky boy gazes at you seductively and places one hand on your shoulder and another on your hip, while placing his crotchal region in direct proximity to your own.

From the colour of the symbol on their, err, nipple piercing, you can only assume that they’re a rustblood. Perhaps they were attracted by the colour of your blood, which is becoming increasingly visible as you blush profusely, which is the appropriate reaction after someone with a nipple piercing grabs your hip.  Unsure of what the procedure is in this situation, you awkwardly reciprocate the hip hold. That seems to have been the action that the burgundy was hoping for, as they grin devilishly, and their hip hold starts to metamorphose into a genital grasp.

At this point your blush has replaced your original skin tone with something approaching the skin of a pomegranate.  Luckily for the blood supply to the rest of your body, Folykl cuts in. Rather literally. A quick swipe of her gremlin claws leaves a bloody streak on the horny lowblood’s flank.  They back off immediately, casting a hurt glance back at you, before disappearing again into the tumult of the dance floor.

You cast a disappointed glance at Folykl who hisses in the direction of the wounded burgundy.

FOLYKL: Fuckin   degenerate 

FOLYKL: No self   respect 

You appeal that he was just having fun!  That’s why we’re here right. Folykl gives you a quizzical smirk.

FOLYKL: So   you were looking   to have some fun? 

FOLYKL: Did touching bulges   with a rusty sound like a good time 

The blush hadn’t quite left your face before, but, with that inquest, the blood does a 180 in your veins and starts heading back towards your plump cheeks.  You try and stutter out a response. You mean, you wouldn’t be OPPOSED to dancing with the burgundy. You just thought that that was the way everyone on Alternia dances!

Despite your history with being a complete idiot, especially regarding Alternian culture, Folykl doesn’t buy your assertion.  She sniggers and clings onto your shoulder again, leading you away from the dance floor.

As you pass by the spot on the floor where you left Kuprum’s limp form, you notice his absence, although a slightly greasy outline does remain.

FOLYKL: He had enough   of the music. 

FOLYKL: He’s   upstairs. 

Folykl points you up some dark stairs to the second floor.

~~~

You push open the door to one of the second floor private rooms and step inside.  Kuprum lies prone on one of the couches, with one leg hanging lazily off it. His gigantic backpack takes up about half the seats and Kuprum’s currently using it as a pillow.

Folykl pushes the heavy door closed behind you and for the first time in the last 2 hours you get some semblance of silence.  The pump of the bass still reverberates around the room and the music seems to be piped in through some smaller speakers in the corner, but it’s much more reasonable in volume.

Kuprum sits up as he hears the door close, still looking a little inebriated.

KUPRUM: >LOL about time you got up here 

KUPRUM: >it’d be a dick move to leave your hurt friend all alone LOL 

He makes a mocking face, clearly parodying your earlier concern.  At this point, you’ve hung out with Kuprum enough to filter out his rudeness. It’s nice that he at least noticed your care. You like to think his jests are his way of thanking you for it.  That’s a bit of a stretch, now that you say it out loud in your head.

He flicks open a cooler next to the couch, revealing some chilled beverage cylinders and tosses one at you.  You only just catch it before it socks you in the side of the head. Kuprum laughs gratuitously at your near pain.

You chuckle yourself a bit.  Even if it’s at your expense, it’s always nice to see your friends laughing.  You crack open the drink. Now that you think about it, you’ve been sweating profusely and are probably more than a little dehydrated.  You throw back a few slugs of the liquid. Troll soda isn’t as refreshing as a good RC back home, but it’s slightly sludgy consistency still feels good against your dry throat.

As you watch over the ripple of dancers in the hall below you, oscillating in time with the thumping bass, you can hear Folykl and Kuprum whispering to each other behind you.  You wonder if Folykl’s airing her concerns for her partner’s self-electrification. A small smile crosses your lips. You hope that the two get to talk more about their feelings in private.  You know how much they care about each other, it’d be a shame if-

Your thoughts get caught in your head and your breath in your throat as a pair of sweaty hands roughly grab hold of your upper arms.  The drink you were just enjoying falls to the ground in front of you and splashes out on the shiny linoleum floor.

You stammer out a surprised question, and jokingly lament the loss of your beverage attempting to deflect from your uncertainty and just the tiniest pinch of fear.  You mean; they wouldn’t hurt you or anything. At least you hope they won’t hurt you. God, can you compromise on not hurting you much?

Folykl comes around to your front with a wide smirk on her face that almost looks… lustful?  You swallow a bit. You’ve got a sneaking suspicion you know where this encounter might be headed. You’ve seen similar looks from your friends before and it’s always gone the same way. Kuprum gets very close to your ear and whispers in his nasally tone.

KUPRUM: >LOL We just wanted to apologize for pulling you away from that horny rustblood earlier. 

KUPRUM: >You must’ve been desperate if you were willing to fuck them! LOLOLOL 

You try to testify against his rather forward assertion, but your attempts at a defense are cut short by a sharp bite on the back of your neck sending a literal jolt up your spine. Folykl puts on a hurt expression.

FOLYKL: What   don’t you think we   can have as much fun as that lowblood? 

FOLYKL: I promise   our bloods just as dirty   as his 

That’s not what you meant! You’re just not really prepared at the moment for this kinda thing! But with that statement, the short gold-blood had already taken hold of your belt.  Despite your squirming she has no trouble undoing it. Even still clad in your undergarments, you’re having trouble hiding your “excitement”. Desperately, you stutter out a couple pleas and wriggle even more, but Folykl’s already wrapped her knobbly fingers around the elastic band of your boxers and pulled down.

Your manhood pops out, jumping into a salute at all the attention. You quietly curse, more at yourself than at your two compatriots.  You’re making this too easy. Being so ready to go after such mild stimulus makes you seem like some sort of slut. The truth is, you’re just sensitive!  You can’t help it! You’re only a slut for friendship. Aren’t you?

You wish you could tell the two gold’s that, but you’ve seemingly lost your ability to say anything coherent.  Kuprum giggles in your ear again, releasing the grip on your left arm to lift up your hoodie and get a better look at the details of your genitals. You blush more than you’ve probably ever blushed before, or thought was humanly possible.

KUPRUM: >LOL is that what you aliens have down there? Gross! LOLOLOL 

His grip moves again, this time from the hem of your hoodie and up underneath it. He sniggers as he starts to tweak your nipple. You squeal a bit.

Folykl, however, doesn’t seem turned off by the appearance of your dick at all. Though, to be honest, she hasn’t looked at it much at all, instead being seemingly entranced by the two fleshy orbs hanging below it.  She begins to caress them, first gently, feeling over their surface, then more thoroughly seemingly exploring their inner workings, poking and prodding incessantly.

This, as you might imagine, sends a whole lot of crazy feelings through your nerve endings, shooting some indescribably mix of pain and pleasure down your legs and up your spine.  You want to beg her to stop, but also, you’d prefer if she continued to grope them for a very long time. At the moment, she seems more than happy to oblige with the latter. 

Alongside paying you ‘special attention’, she brings her other hand up to your shaft and begins to stroke on it roughly.  Soon, she’s licking along it with her long and lascivious tongue, occasionally encompassing it’s length within her sharp-toothed mouth. Kuprum’s also putting his tongue to work, running it up and down your cervical spine, circling around the bony lumps of your vertebrae.

This is absolutely unberable, and you don’t know how much more you can take this torture. You let out a shaky moan, quivering like a leaf as Folykl plays with your most sensitive parts.  You look down into her blackened, hollow eyes. She drinks up your supplicant gaze, and with a cruel and positively lewd smirk, she wraps her fingers around the root of your balls, then-

-with a “light”, but meaningful tug, she pulls downward on your assets and you let out a loud yelp not unlike a startled puppy.  With a shaking climax, you release several weeks of pent up spunk like straightening a kink in a hose. The stream catches the edge of Folykl’s face and she falls back in surprise.  The rest leaves a streak on the clear window overlooking the dancers below.

Oh, Gods. The curtains were open the whole time.  If anyone was ‘fortunate’ enough to be looking up within the last few minutes, they would’ve gotten a helluva a show at the expense of your dignity.  In fact, your worst fears seem founded as you see the distinctive yellow of troll eyes staring up at you. The rustblood from earlier is among the small few looking up at you from below.  They nudge their neighbor who also turns to see what’s just transpired above them. They giggle to themselves and make motions seemingly cheering you on. The embarrassment and shame you feel is on a level above anything you ever felt before. If you were to just die right now, that would probably be okay.

You try to step back away from the window and the onlookers, but your legs are like wet noodles. You don’t think you’ve ever finished quite that hard before.  It’s almost like the ungodly mix of agony and pleasure overloaded your nerves. Kuprum braces under your arms, so you don’t slump down to the floor, laughing at your limp figure.

KUPRUM: >Oh you get off on that?? LOL 

KUPRUM: >you aliens are sick! 

KUPRUM: >LOL I bet you wanna go down there right now and have your little lowblood datemate suck you off too LOLOLOL 

You always forget how naturally strong most trolls are as the gold-blooded boy effortlessly hauls you backwards, sitting on the couch with your naked form on his lap.

Looking for some words to say to rectify the situation, as if you might be able to talk your way out of this humiliation, you manage to muster a sentence or two, but all you can find to say is ‘sorry for the mess.  I didn’t mean to…’. Yeah, that’s probably good enough.

This sends Kuprum into another fit of sniggering.

KUPRUM: >LOLOLOL 

KUPRUM: >You’ll have time to clean up later, dumbass 

KUPRUM: >We’re not done yet. LOL 

You hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper somewhere behind you.

Now you’ve had enough.  What just happened before; that was fine.  It would’ve helped to be a little more prepared and you could’ve done without the exhibitionism aspect, but you won’t even pretend to deny that you didn’t enjoy it.

But this is going too far! You’ve never done anal before! And unless Kuprum’s got some lube in his big-ass backpack, you’re certainly not gonna fit anything into your small-ass ass!

You manage to stammer out a few snippets of your protest.  ‘Wait…’ ‘Kuprum, I’ve never…’ ‘Lube’. Kuprum only seems to here the last bit.

KUPRUM: >’Lube’? 

KUPRUM: >Oh LOL, I’ve got PLENTY of THAT? 

You feel a telltale pressure on your rear end and tighten instinctively.  Kuprum seems more than a little annoyed by your intention of chastity, snarling a bit as he attempts to wedge his bulge into you.

Meanwhile, Folykl crawls over to you and Kuprum on the couch, her cheek still bearing your mark.  You try to gesture to her to have Kuprum slow down a bit with several complex eye motions, but she doesn’t care to notice.  Instead, she traces a line up your front with her long and yellowed tongue. You flinch a bit as she starts at your penis and slowly passes your belly button, your nipples, and lifts Mallek’s hoodie off over your head before bringing starting her tongue’s journey again at your neck. 

As she reaches your chin, she stops, looking deeply into your eyes.  You seem to fall into her black pits as she pulls you into an intense kiss, her tongue pouncing onto yours.  You can’t suppress a gag as she delves into your throat.

The involuntary reaction gives Kuprum the opportunity he’s been looking for and you moan into Folykl’s maw as you feel a thick slimy appendage pass into you in turn.  Like an eel in a trap, it squirms around your insides, pressing on parts of you you didn’t even know existed. Eye’s crossing, you moan again, and your muffled, indecent noise is mirrored by Kuprum’s voice behind your ear.

KUPRUM: >Urgh, Jegus, you’re so.. Tight. 

He braces himself better, linking his arms underneath yours, then begins thrusting into you with generous pause. In an attempt to gain some semblance of control over the situation, you try and grab a hold of Kuprum’s arms. He misinterprets the intent of this movement however, and you end up interlocking your fingers.

KUPRUM: >LOL Don’t get any funny ideas about us 

KUPRUM: >I’m already taken LOL 

Finally, Folykl’s tongue releases it’s hold on your uvula, and, with a lewd wet noise, she pulls it out of your mouth, leaving a trail of saliva linking you two. You take a grateful gulp of air.  Folykl seems to be following your example, her heavy breathing causing her naked chest to rise and fall rhythmically. Wait, naked??? When did Folykl have time to strip??

Sure enough, the small low-blood has removed her sweatshirt, and is beginning on her pants.  I guess it’s only appropriate. If nothing else you’d feel bad if she was the only one not getting serviced in this arrangement.

As her pants fall, not one, but two wriggling, yellow, bulges pop out, eagerly awaiting attention.  This is, of course, surprising. You’ve only seen two trolls in the nude before, and both of them had the standard number of pseudo-penises.

Your perplexed look seems to have drawn another chortle from Kuprum, although you can tell, he’s concentrating more on fucking you than making jokes at your expense.

KUPRUM: >never seen a gold-blood’s packages before? LOL 

KUPRUM: >LOL we’ve all got two! 

KUPRUM: >that’s why the Condesce loves us so much 

Sure enough, as if to assure you he is packing a second bulge back there, you feel a second slimy tendril stretching your already strained ass.  You don’t even have mind to protest as you’re already occupied with Folykl’s movement in front of you. She grinds up close to you, placing her paired appendages on your stomach, leaving a splotch of yellow against your skin.

Folykl, now positioned on your lap reaches down behind her and begins to fumble with your member again. With the constant bouncing she eventually manages to fulfill her goal, moaning softly as you feel yourself slide inside her nook, the tightness and warmth sending shockwaves down your legs.

You’re truly overwhelmed with pleasure.  Kuprum’s incessant humping behind you and Folykl’s hungry gyrating in front creates a rhythm of euphoria that’s about to send you over the top, your soft pants turning into involuntary moans.  Out of the corner of your blurring vision, you see Folykl give a smirking glance to Kuprum over your shoulder. Your brain isn’t having much luck doing much thinking at the moment, but even it knows that something big’s about to go down.

Kuprum’s light thrusts begin to slow and deepen.  You try and turn around to look at him, perhaps read the intentions in his devilish, multi-coloured eyes, but Folykl grabs your head and pulls you into another deep kiss. Your worst suspicions seem likely as Kuprum once again sniggers with intention not unlike a predator about to pounce on his prey.

KUPRUM: >ready for the big finish LOLOL 

He barely finished making his statement when he thrusts so deep inside you, you could’ve sworn his bulges would come out of your mouth.  Then he pulled back and thrust again, each time his squirming length exploring the depths of your insides deeper than the last. His pace quickened and you’re almost thankful Folykl’s tongue was blocking your airway, lest your screams of rapturous pleasure alert everyone in the club to what was happening. Folykl seemed to also be muffling herself as Kuprum’s fucking was bouncing her harder around your cock and her quivering signaled she was close.

Finally, with one last push, Kuprum let out a gluttonous moan and you felt something absolutely indescribable.  As Kuprum released his seed into your stomach, a shock of his psionic energy coursed through your entire being. Every pleasure center in your brain seemed to fire at once, your muscles tightened, your eyes crossed, and you climaxed into Folykl.  Folykl was seemingly waiting for this exchange of energies and she greedily siphoned Kuprum’s released strength through your mouth. As she did so, her quivering intensified and she released her hold on your lips just in time to cry out with pleasure and release her thick yellow cum onto your chest.

The three of you sit panting in a pile on the couch, connected at the groin.  Kuprum seems to have almost lost consciousness, as he lies completely limp behind you, the only movement you sense is the rise and fall of his chest and the occasional twitch of his bulges, which still remain lodged deep inside you.

Panting and exhausted, you lay back against him.  Feeling his warm alien juices slosh around inside you feels strangely... pleasurable?  It’s certainly hard to describe at the least. Folykl awkwardly slides off of your softening length, leaving a trail of your semen connecting you for a moment, and joins you and Kuprum in lying down on the couch.

This goes on for another minute or two without anyone saying anything, just the three of you, breathing heavily as the bump of the dance music matches your racing hearts.  Folykl finally breaks the silence.

FOLYKL: see? 

FOLYKL: better than    any rustblood could do 

You’d probably have to agree.

~~~~~~~

It’s been near as makes no difference an hour since the illicit encounter took place and Kuprum’s still lying motionless on the couch with his two dicks hanging out, save for now he’s snoring.  Folykl had put her pants back on and you your hoodie and you’re both now lying on the not cum-stained couch on the other side of the room. Folykl had grabbed a small portable games console from Kuprum’s massive pack and you were playing some games while you let him sleep it off.

Or rather Folykl was playing games and you were getting your ass handed to you.

You place your controller down on the couch next to you and stand up to grab a drink from the cooler.

FOLYKL: awww   giving up so soon? 

FOLYKL: it only took me    2 minutes to beat you this time 

You laugh dryly and ask her if she wants a drink as well. You don’t get to hear your answer though as you hear a sudden beep and the door to the private room swings open suddenly.

Standing in the doorway is the troll who had walked in before you, still decked out in his lavish jewelry and clothes.  Now that he’s up close, you can see his fish-like gills and violet sign. Oh boy.

He looks around the room.  First at shirtless Folykl, than at alien you, and finally at completely nude and still slimy Kuprum, who’d just started to stir from his nap.

HIGHBLOOD: So…

He cracks his knuckles menacingly and his eyes narrow.  Then he rips open his shirt, revealing his tattooed and well muscled chest. He smiles seductively.

HIGHBLOOD: It’s one of those parties, ay?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to how well received this first Volume was, I’m currently working on the second, featuring our favorite cerulean art thief!


End file.
